


Reader

by estepheia



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estepheia/pseuds/estepheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post<i>-Serenity</i> PWP: River catches Jayne with his pants down. Written 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reader

Some things – or people - you only realized were important to you when they were gone. Like Book and Wash. Every time Jayne counted out the plates for dinner, it was with a stab of outrage in his gut. The table seemed too large now, which was ridiculous, ‘cause it had been just right for six before Simon, River and the Shepard came onboard and things got cramped.

“Smells good,” River’s voice came from right behind him, making him jump.

“Peegu!” Jayne cursed and sucked his thumb where the bread knife had nicked it. As usual, he hadn’t heard her come in. Sneaky little thing.

“What are you making?” She drifted over to the stove where bubbling sounds came from a big shiny pot.

“Puppies and pears,” he said gruffly, his mother’s standard answer for when Jayne and his brothers pestered her with the What’s-for-dinner question. Jayne wasn’t wild about kitchen duty, but it beat having to eat the _ta ma duh_ grub that the others banged together. Mal didn’t care, Zoë was too wrapped up in her grief, while Kaylee and Simon simply forgot to cook, barely making it out of their bunks these days. Which had landed Jayne with the job of making the chow. Just as well, since he was the only one left with a healthy appetite.

River sniffed and brightened. “Basil.”

Jayne shrugged. He hadn’t exactly paid attention during Book’s cooking sermons, but some of the things the shepherd had said about herbs and spices had stuck.

River tilted her head and watched him, as he filled the breadbasket and put it on the table.

Jayne glowered at her. “Don’t you have a boat to fly?” He liked her just fine when she was at the other end of the boat, in the cockpit. Kept her from poking round in other folk’s heads. He sure didn’t like being alone with her. Saner or no, girl still gave him the creeps.

Her mien darkened, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her head towards the aft door.

A moment later, Kaylee and Simon tumbled into the kitchen in a flurry of limbs and suppressed giggles. They sobered when they saw Jayne and River, and cast worried, self-conscious glances around, to see if Zoë were there as well. Their bliss tended to boil over, even though they tried to keep a lid on it during meals. It just shone out of their eyes.

“Smells nice, Jayne,” Kaylee chirped.

“Yeah, actually it does,” Simon agreed. With a small bow, he pulled out Kaylee’s chair.

Her face lit up. Kaylee affected a curtsey and sat down, basking in his attention.

Jayne fetched the pot and set it on the table with so much force that some of the hot stew sloshed out.

Simon and Kaylee laughed about some private joke, too absorbed to notice. They probably wouldn’t even notice if the table were on fire.

Once, Jayne had caught them doing it behind a stack of crates in the cargo bay: Simon, thrusting backwards and forwards, grunting and whispering some romantic rubbish, and Kaylee only half undressed, with her bare feet hooked round the Doc’s back, toes curling, making these tiny, breathless sounds, looking shinier than ever…. They hadn’t seen him. Jayne had crept away with a raging hard-on and a new inspiration for his bunk.

Jayne swallowed and pushed the memory away.

It was completely by chance that he met River’s gaze then. A feverish glaze in her eyes sent a sudden stab to his gut. Made him wonder: Had she just seen them hump in his memory? Did River ever watch Simon and Kaylee when they were at it? Not with her eyes but with her mind?

He hastily looked away, ladled some stew on his plate, grabbed a few pieces of bread, and fled from the kitchen before the gorram girl had a chance of finding anything else in his brain that he didn’t want her to see.

“What’s gotten into him?” he heard Simon ask. “River?”

Jayne didn’t linger long enough to hear her answer.

* * *

That same night, she caught him with his pants down.

Jayne was lying on his bunk – eyes closed, pants unbuttoned, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other hand languorously pumping his cock, when a sound at the bulkhead made him look up. And there she was: River, wearing nothing but a flimsy cotton nightgown, ghosting down the ladder like some pixie.

Before he could even react, her bare feet hit the deck.

“What the hell—?“ Startled, Jayne sat up, letting go of his piece.

She studied him, from behind the curtain of her hair, and like an animal stalking its prey, she took a step towards him. Jayne thought she looked mighty determined. More than a little crazy too, like she’d forgotten to take her meds. Jayne’s heartbeat sped up as a flood of adrenaline raced through him. Yeah, definitely crazy, ‘cause anyone sane would’ve stammered an apology and gotten the hell out.

Jayne had never been squeamish, but the memory of all the blood she’d spilled was still fresh. He hadn’t forgotten how the girl had outfought them Reavers. She’d looked just as determined then, before she’d leapt through the closing door into the fray. Maybe that’s why instinct took over. Jayne scurried backwards like a crab, until his shoulders bumped against the wall. Thinking that she’d picked a piss-poor moment to finally settle the score between them, he yanked down the curtain to reach for a gun or knife. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance against her. River was faster and deadlier than a girl her size and age had any right to be. But at least he’d die trying.

Yep, she was faster all right; She flung herself across the room in one flowing move, landing on his thighs like a cowhand landing in the saddle. A swift karate chop to the wrist rendered his gun hand useless. When he tried to fend her off with his left, she knocked it aside. He expected her to follow-up with a barrage of precise blows against gut, windpipe, and groin, but it never came. Instead, she swiftly planted a finger on his lips.

“Jayne,” she said. Her hand was warm and dry. It smelled of soap and faintly of musk.

“Hey! What’s gotten into—?”

River frowned, and put more pressure on his lips, stalling all questions. No talking. Jayne nodded, but he couldn’t help breaking into a sweat.

He also couldn’t help noticing that where she was straddling him, there was no fabric between his skin and hers. She was wearing a whole load of nuthin’ underneath that girly nightgown. It was the stuff fantasies were made of, but—

“You’re afraid of me, Jayne,” River stated. Her expression was blank, her tone factual, almost scientific. Like he was her latest science project.

Jayne glared at her. His heart was hammering madly in his chest and he was struggling to keep his breathing even. Both his wrists hurt where she’d punched him. So yeah, she got that right. But no way in rutting hell was he going to admit it.

River slowly tilted her head. “Afraid of what I may have seen…” her fingertip lightly touched his forehead, “…in there,” then returned to his lips.

Yeah. That too.

He’d be stupid not to be afraid. Most womenfolk didn’t take kindly to featuring in menfolk’s bedtime thoughts. Specially the ones that were brought up proper. And River had featured in Jayne’s thoughts more than once. Not often, not with Inara on the boat, and not with River acting cuckoo most of the time. Nuthin’ killed the mood faster than crazy-talk or getting slashed at with a knife. So no, not often, but every now and then.

It’s not because she’d been naked the first time Jayne saw her. She hadn’t been much of a sight: Too scrawny, too frightened, and too loco. Jayne had liked his women shapely then, with wide hips and a proper rack, full lips, and no-nonsense attitude; the kind that didn’t break easy. The crazy girl from the cryo tank didn’t push his buttons, not then.

But later, when she was wearing them girly summer dresses, and ghosting about the boat barefoot, hair all shiny and silky, like in one of them Cortex commercials, he’d sometimes caught himself thinking how pretty she was, like a pixie. And then he’d polished his barrel thinking about a roll in the hay with her.

So what. Cheaper than wasting his paycheck on whores on some dumb-ass backwater moon.

He’d pictured her dancing ‘round him, slender arms raised like one of them fancy ballerinas, laughing, daring him to catch her, wanting to be caught. And in those daydreams he’d done just that: grabbed her and carried her to his bunk. She’d spread her legs for him, smiling. He’d pushed into her and she’d arched up to meet every one of his thrusts, and she’d muttered his name and told him to go harder, and damn, if this wasn’t the worst moment to think ‘bout humping her. Only, he couldn’t help it. It was like having a tooth knocked loose. More you tried to ignore it, more you found yourself probing it with the tip of your tongue.

In Jayne’s favorite daydream, River had come to him at night; caught him in his bunk, jerking off, just like tonight, only in that fantasy she’d smiled. She’d put a finger on his lips to silence him, before grabbing his cock and taking him into her mouth. Or she’d lifted the hem of her nightgown, climbed on top of him, and lowered herself on his cock, eager to feel him inside her.

Wuh de ma! How was he to know the girl was a gorram reader, able to pry them kind of thoughts from a man’s brain? What a man did in his own bunk was his own gorram business. Private. Couldn’t blame a fellow for that.

“Now look here—“

Her swift, withering glance cut him off in mid-protest.

For several heartbeats, neither of them spoke. His mouth felt parched. God, what he wouldn’t give for a drink right now!

River let her fingertip wander to his chin.

Jayne held his breath.

She paused for a heartbeat or two, and then continued her exploration down the stubble of his throat. Jayne swallowed, aware that she could crush his windpipe with one swift blow.

“I’m not going to kill you, Jayne,” she said, as she traced the outline of his Adam’s apple. Her touch was light and playful. A mischievous smile lit up her face, strangely radiant – like a desert sunrise “Not today.”

Jayne exhaled, allowing some of the tension to seep from his muscles and tendons. Relieved that he’d live to see another day, Jayne mentally switched gears. If this wasn’t payback, then what was it?

Her fingertips reached the collar of his olive t-shirt, then continued their slow journey south, hesitating only briefly above his racing heart. “Troublemaker,” she said, tracing the intricate kanji with her fingertip. Even through the shirt’s fabric, her fingers felt hot.

His cock, which had grown limp when she’d jumped him, slowly hardened.

Of course, Jayne knew that humping the girl wasn’t in the cards. Never had been. If he’d so much as looked at her funny? _Tyen-ah!_ Cap’n woulda tossed him out the airlock, that’s for sure, with Book and the others never lifting a finger to stop him. Heck, it could still happen. If Mal or Simon saw them like this—

“No one’s coming,” River said, promptly. “There’s just you and me, Jayne.”

“Stop doing that!” Jayne growled. “Get out of my brain. You’re giving me a headache.”

But even as the words left his mouth, things started to make sense. Things like the vein he saw throbbing in her throat. The way she breathed, too fast, too shallow. The feel of her bare skin against his thighs, as hot as his own…

Same as a tiny scratch on a twig, a green leaf on a bed of dead foliage, or a dark patch of earth and an overturned pebble. On their own, they meant precious little, but to a tracker’s eye they told a story. Easy to read.

Sonofabitch! The girl had urges too! And it looked like she was done playin’ with herself. Jayne grinned.

River held his gaze for several heartbeats then lowered her eyes.

He kept on grinning and lifted his hips while she shimmied his pants further down. She scooted closer and wriggled around on his lap, until the base of his cock was pressed snug against her soft little cunny. He inhaled sharply, breathing in her musk, when she grabbed his erection and started to stroke him. At first, her movements were kind of awkward, like she’d never touched a man’s parts before. Heck, maybe she hadn’t, but damn, if she wasn’t quick on the uptake. Soon she was jerking him off with mind-blowing skill.

To an onlooker it would have looked as though the jutting erection protruding from between her thighs was her own. Hell, in a way it was hers, ‘cause River was clearly in control here, dictating the pace, alternating between fast and slow, between squeezing the root hard and softly stimulating the slick, sensitive head with her palm.

“ _Jing-Tsai_ , girl, where’d you learn that?” Jayne groaned.

She looked up to give him one of her trademark stares: eyebrows raised, lopsided smile, like a schoolteacher trying to coax a simple answer from a slow pupil.

Oh. Right. Reader.

Her smile widened. She returned to her task, before Jayne could ponder whether this was second hand knowledge, gleaned from Inara or Kaylee, or whether River was reading the effects of her actions in Jayne’s mind. Didn’t matter anyhow. Not as long as the sex was good. Like his old man always used to say: Never look a gift horse in the mouth.

His hands twitched with the urge to touch her. He wanted to run his hands over her body, wanted to feel her skin, touch her pert little breasts, flick his thumbs against her nipples. Most of all, he wanted to flip her over, on her back, position his cock, and then push into her real slow. Or maybe not so slow. Only he wasn’t sure she’d let him. Right now, he wasn’t sure of anything, except that he didn’t want her to stop. She wanted to be in control? She got it. Hell, he could follow orders if he had to. Jayne groped around for something to hold on to, to keep his hands grounded. He ended up kneading his pillow with one hand, and holding on to the bed frame with the other.

If he couldn’t touch her, at least he could watch her: Her eyes were dark. Sweat glistened on her nose and brow. She was breathing rapidly through parted lips, her chest rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm.

Meanwhile she was rocking against him, rhythmically pressing her hot little cunt against his cock. He felt the slickness of her juices on his skin and on his balls. Together with the hand-job she was giving him, it was enough to bring him to the brink of shootin’, but not enough to pull the trigger. And judging by the scrunched look on her face, River’s own wasn’t getting any place either. Feifei duh pee-yan! Jayne punched the pillow in frustration.

“The hell with it!” Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed her by the hips and yanked her towards him. Too late for fancy acrobatics now, they were both too close. Nuthin wrong with a decent bit of frottage.

River gasped, but didn’t resist, when he pushed her up and down, causing her clit to rub against his cock, increasing the friction between them. She continued to work his cock, hard and fast, her face a mask of concentration. His cock was slick by now, covered in both her juices and his precum.

A rosy flush spread over her cheeks and neck, telling him she was heading for the big bang fast.

“Come on, my little _wen chuan_ ,” he urged her. Muttering a string of profanities and encouragements, half Chinese, half English, Jayne bucked his hips, thrusting into her small fist, while at the same time increasing the friction and pressure on her clit.

Suddenly she started to keen. It was an eerie, mewling sound, primal somehow, as though it was forcing its way from deep down.

“That’s it, girl,” he groaned. “Go for it.” He was more than ready to pop but he wanted to push her over first.

With a high-pitched whimper, River tossed back her head and went rigid, the tendons and veins in her throat standing out like chords. Her hand on his cock went slack. Her entire body seemed to be frozen, suspended in free fall. Time seemed to dilate, as though to preserve this moment forever. Finally, a shudder racked her body and she slumped forward. Her hair fell like a curtain, hiding her face. Another shudder shook her, and another – aftershocks of her climax.

No longer holding back, Jayne clasped her slack hand, forming a tight channel with both their hands, and started to pump in earnest. Faster, harder, he only needed a few more strokes, he could feel the explosion build, deep down, in his spine. Hell, even his feet seemed to be burning. Suddenly her hand tightened underneath his palm, increasing the friction, and the big finish was there, right there, God, yes—

With a strangled howl, Jayne emptied his clip in several drawn-out bursts.

A moment later, a hot, boneless body slumped against his chest. His arm felt heavier than usual, but he slung it round her waist to steady her. They were both sticky, and her hair was tickling his nose, but he had no intention of moving. Instead, he listened to the rapid drum roll of both their heartbeats as they slowed down to a more regular trot.

Thinking that she was too tapped out to object to his touch, Jayne ran his hand through her hair. Nothing shampoo commercial about it. Her curls were slightly damp from sweat, but he liked the soft feel of it and the way it curled around his fingers. And it smelled good.

River shifted on his lap, then pulled back.

He let go of her, and allowed his hands to drop to the mattress. “That was somethin’,” he muttered, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. “Now what?”

River climbed off his lap and out of his bunk. She looked kind of forlorn standing there in her crumpled, jism-stained nightgown. A tiny frown told him she was thinking hard.

“The better the sex, the bigger the mess.” Jayne shrugged out of his T-shirt and handed it to her. “Here, wipe yourself off with that.”

She accepted the shirt but made no move to clean herself up.

“I needed that. I think,” she finally said.

Deep down, Jayne’s heart took a weird little leap, but he gave her an impassive shrug. “Any time,” he volunteered, scratching his neck, where the tickle of her hair still lingered.

She studied his face. “They wouldn’t understand.”

Jayne didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were. Damn right, they wouldn’t. The Doc would have a fit. And the Cap’n? Guaranteed to take this the wrong way. This wasn’t Mal’s kind of stupid. He’d think Jayne had forced or blackmailed her somehow, or that she’d gone back to being crazy. Hell, even Jayne didn’t understand what’d just happened.

While she used his t-shirt to mop up their combined juices, Jayne climbed out of his bunk and pulled up his pants. He felt stiff and sore, but in a good way. “Then let’s not tell.”

River smiled, climbed the ladder, and left without another word.

“Like I said,” Jayne muttered to the closing bulkhead. “Any time.”

END

 

 **Glossary of Chinese terms**  
(not sure how accurate these are)

_Feifei duh pee-yan! – Baboon’s ass-crack!_  
Jing-Tsai - Brilliant  
ta ma duh - crappy  
Tyen-ah! - Heavens!  
wen chuan - hot spring (Jayne’s nickname for River, which I chose because of it’s similarity to English:wench)  
Wuh de ma!- Mother of God. 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta Mommanerd!  
> Written for Mr. Estepheia :)


End file.
